


Bridging the Divide

by fannishliss



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-09
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 15:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  The Doctor admits he's in love with Rose, but they're incompatible.  Rose refuses to let that stop them!  The Tardis helps. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**title: Bridging the Divide**  
author: [](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fannishliss.livejournal.com/)**fannishliss**  
pairing: Nine/Rose  
Rating: nc17  
genre:  s1 and potw AU (complete!)  
length: 12,000 words.

summary:  The Doctor admits he's in love with Rose, but they're incompatible.  Rose refuses to let that stop them!  The Tardis helps. :)

=?=

"Doctor?" Rose asked, from the jump seat.  She liked to sit and watch sometimes while he roamed around the console.  It was soothing after a hard adventure, like the one they'd just had on Satellite Five, with the open-brain-headed people running things and messing up the destiny of the human race.  

"Yes?"  he answered, distractedly. He liked to tweak, and he was currently tweaking.  Rose could feel the little shudders the Tardis made as she adjusted according to his minute rearrangements of her knobs, levers and dials.  

"Why did you call Adam my boyfriend?"  she said, looking down, and kicking her trainers against the rungs under the jumpseat.  She knew she was being juvenile, but once in a while she had to air her grievances.

"Well, he was, wasn't he?" the Doctor muttered.  He sounded perfectly casual, but she could see the nonchalant way his brow had lifted, the picture of perfectly unconcerned, which spelled out bothered in Time Lord.

"No," she said.  "Look.  You just stop accusing me of having him as a boyfriend, and we'll forget he was ever on board."

"Done," he said, but his brow had lowered, and that was even worse than bothered.  That was annoyed.

"Doctor, why are you still annoyed?" Rose asked, a little more insistent than before.

"Oh, I don't know, Rose, maybe because you invited a stranger onto my Tardis because you were getting lonely?"  The Doctor's tone was light, but it still stung. It got Rose's back up when the Doctor acted like this.  Well, this time, she would call him out for it.

"I just thought you might want to show off," Rose answered,  "be impressive?  Weren't we in it together, taking him all the way into the future, giving him a little perspective?"

The Doctor lifted his head and she met his piercing stare.  She had nothing to regret, no reason to back down. She looked back into the blue and congratulated herself on the staring contests she and Shireen used to play at.

He stared and stared at her.  She calmed herself and breathed and stared back.  She had nothing to hide.  If she heated a little under his gaze, he was none the wiser.  If she dreamed in her heart of hearts to be taken apart under that gaze, he'd never know, and no hearts would ever be broken.

Finally he huffed a sigh and turned away, back to the console.  Rose gratefully blinked her watering eyes.

"You haven't answered me, Doctor," she heard herself say. Apparently she still hadn't learned to let well enough alone.

He didn't answer, just went back to making adjustments now so inconsequential that Rose couldn't feel the slightest tremor.

"Jealous much?"  she murmured, but his head whipped around, blue eyes blazing. She'd gone too far.

Hand trailing knowingly along the controls he'd just finished calibrating, he came round the console as smooth as the Tardis humming through the Vortex.  Rose didn't dare look away. He seated himself beside her and primly crossed one leg over the other, grasping his knee.  Rose saw that his knuckles were white and the color had drained from his cheeks.  

"I'm sorry, that was a stupid thing to say," she stammered.  

"I'm not offended," he said lightly, looking up at the arched ceiling of the control room.  His eyes traced the beams and maybe he could see lines of energy or the Arc of Time, Rose really had no idea.  

"You seem offended," Rose stated, nervously.  He was taking this way out of proportion, wasn't he?

"I don't fancy being misunderstood," he said, darting a look at her.  Even a glancing blow from that brilliant eye made her shiver.

"I take it back," Rose said, wholeheartedly, full of contrition.

"You're missing the point, Rose," he said. "I'm not jealous of you.  It's not fair to you, is it, healthy and young, nineteen years old and cooped up with a celibate?  It isn't fair of me to expect that you wouldn't be attracted to such pretty young men, just because even a Dalek can tell across a viewscreen that I'm in love with you?"

Rose blinked.  It was too much to take in at once. Celibate?  Love?  Which was it then?   "I uh, I thought it, uh, just kind of got that from me."

"That I'm in love with you?" he asked.  

Rose's heart lurched again, painfully, at the bitterness in the Doctor's tone.

"I mean, that's just a dream of mine, isn't it, that the Dalek thought because of me?" Rose offered, blushing.  "I mean, yeah, it never even saw us together till the very end." She laughed a little, but the Doctor's face was quiet and dead serious.

"No," the Doctor stated, flatly, "it knew. Somehow, it knew.  I'm in love with you, deeply, horribly, quite cursedly in love with you, and every time another man looks at you, I want to take you in my arms and prove to them who you belong to."

"Do it then," Rose breathed.  Her pupils must've gone huge — it was like the whole room had gone dim and the Doctor shone with all the light of the Sun in its last dying glory.  

"I want to," he said, and maybe he was just a little breathless.

"Don't wait for another man to look at me, Doctor," she said.  "You look at me, now," and she reached a hand up to touch the side of his face, when he roughly pushed her hand away and sprang most of the way across the room.

"You mustn't do that," he said, panting now.    He was so very beautiful in that instant, his almost feminine lips parted, his brilliant blue eyes wide open, his pale face flushed with color.  

"Do what!" she exclaimed, shocked and a little frightened.  

"Telepaths," he said, "touch telepaths — you can't just touch — especially when emotions are high!"  he gasped.  

"But Doctor," she said, "wouldn't that be wonderful? All the brilliant things you've seen, I could see!  Everything I feel for you, you could feel," she whispered. She'd stood from the jumpseat and wanted to cross to him, but she could see that if she reached out,  if she neared, he would flee.

"Rose, you silly, silly girl.  Don't you realize yet what I am?" he said.  

"Alien, yeah, I got that," Rose laughed, but he shook his head bitterly.   

"Time Lord, Rose— last of the Time Lords.  The universe winds and unwinds inside my head.  No human being can look into that and survive!" he said, anguished now.

Suddenly Rose understood.  "You mean... we're really not compatible.  Really, really, not?" she whispered.

He shook his head again.

"That's why you're celibate?" she asked.

"Culturally, psychically, physiologically — we stopped mating millennia ago, reproduced artificially.  Gallifreyans were too vulnerable to their mates— they had to lower every mental barrier to let their partner in.  Nothing could be held back, or sex couldn't even happen."  

"Couldn't?  Haven't you ... ever?"  Rose asked, embarrassed.  

"I was married, in my first incarnation.  I had a wife in the Backtime, before the artificial methods. She bore me a daughter..."  The Doctor's eyes were ancient as he spoke.  

"Don't you ..."  Rose began, but the Doctor interrupted.

"It wasn't love, not the way I love you.  She was my partner, mother of my offspring. Maybe it's easier without the love."

"Easier!" Rose said, aghast.

His blue eyes flew up, humor and pain mingled in his gaze.  "I'm hungry for you, Rose — and it's a hunger that can't ever be satisfied."

Rose stared at him, and now his barriers had fallen, she could see that hunger, deep, clear, pure, and all-consuming. It was like looking down into a glacier-fed lake a mile deep.

"What," she asked, and cleared her throat. "What are we going to do about this?"  

"What do you mean?"  the Doctor frowned.

"Well, uh, you want me to leave?" she asked. "I mean if it hurts you so much for me to be around."

"No," he breathed.  "It's too late for that.  I can't live without you now."

"I thought you were going to live on for thousands of years," Rose said.

"Yeah... we used to be limited to twelve regenerations — twelve new bodies, fresh new lives — by the Council.  Now they've gone, nothing's to stop me living forever."

Rose shuddered. She couldn't imagined the weariness of slogging on forever, no end in sight.

"You can't love me, but you don't want me to go," she said, frowning.

"I do love you," he said, eyes wide.  "I think I did almost as soon as I met you.  This life, this body, it's so raw. Everything's on the surface, and almost everything, it just hurts, all the time, till I think I'm gonna go mad.  Except you.  Even with the ache of wanting you, Rose — you make everything better."

"So what, then?  What am I supposed to do?"  Rose asked. She knew she could never leave him, not of her own accord.

"Nothing," he said. She looked at him like he'd gone barmy, but he shrugged.  "Nothing to do. I'm a Time Lord, you're a human.  Never the twain shall...  you get the picture."

"You're giving up," she said.  "Don't."

His eyes blazed at her again. "You're forgetting just how much I've lost.   I'm not willing... I can't risk you on top of all of it.  I won't."

"Don't I get a say?" Rose asked.

"I'm the Time Lord, I'm the danger, so I get the say.  I don't even know why I told you all this," he moaned.

"Because you needed to," she insisted.  "You drive yourself mad with all you put on your own shoulders.  I can carry some of it, at least.  And I tell you this much: you won't have to worry about seeing me with other men.  I won't do that to you.  And we're gonna figure this out.  I won't let you rest until, until — until I make you the happiest man in the universe!"

Taken aback, the Doctor stared at Rose in surprise, then starting laughing delightedly.  "Have a good opinion of yourself, do you?"

"Only what I've been told, by someone whose opinion I trust," Rose said modestly, stifling her grin.  

Then she frowned once more.  "Doctor," she asked, "can I still hold your hand?"

"Absolutely," he said, and whatever it was that ran through the link of their hands, it was real, and strong, and it couldn't be denied.

=====

Rose had no sooner promised that she wouldn't taunt the Doctor with other men, than Captain Jack Harkness literally plucked her out of the sky.  He went on to flirt outrageously with Rose while simultaneously making knowing comments to the Doctor.  Even Rose's impromptu dance with the Doctor had been interrupted, first by the Doctor's growing suspicions about the nanites and then by Jack teleporting them onto his ship.  

Despite wanting not to annoy the Doctor, Rose found herself laughing and smiling when Jack was around. He was cheerful and funny and a great conversationalist, not to mention his disarmingly attentive gaze.  He seemed like he was always sizing up what Rose would be like in bed.

Rose tried to be good.  She wasn't seriously attracted to Jack — he was certainly pretty and charming, smooth in ways the Doctor wasn't — but at the same time, Rose wasn't in love with Jack.  She'd already given her heart to the Time Lord.  

Sadly, he didn't seem to realize it.

He grew quieter as Jack made himself at home in the Tardis.  He was abrupt and even deliberately rude.  

The last straw for Rose was in the galley.  The Doctor didn't sleep much as far as Rose could tell, but he did need to eat, and she wandered in one morning to find him spreading some thick, delightful smelling jam on slices of toast.  She was still in her jimjams— perfectly modest drawstring pants and a loose flannel top, pink, with little winged cats all over them.  

The Doctor took one look at her and his lips tightened slightly, disapprovingly.

"Good morning, Doctor," Rose smiled brightly, pretending not to notice.

His eyes narrowed.  

"Something the matter?" she said.  How could he get her back up without even speaking?  It was like they were bitter old miserably-marrieds already.

"Is any of that for me?" Jack said from the galley door, looking at the Doctor's plate, laden with toast.  He then glanced over at Rose, smiling at her.  "Rose," he said, his pleasant, perfectly modulated voice caressing her name.  

The Doctor picked up his mound of toast and cup of tea and stalked out of the room without a single word.

"What slithered down his neck?" Jack wondered, busying himself at the breadboard, slicing more of the bread for toasting, while Rose prepared tea.

She was angry at the Doctor, embarrassed for him, guilty over nothing, and hollow, worn through, with wanting him.  She just looked at Jack, her misery plain.  

"Oh honey," he said, dropping the bread knife with a clatter and taking her into a hug.  He just stood there, rocking her a little, and kissed her lightly on top of the head.  

"What is it with you two?" he whispered.  "You're nuts, that's all I can think."  

"It's hopeless," Rose choked.

"It's never hopeless,"  Jack promised.  He chucked her under the chin.  "It's never hopeless.  There's always a way.  Sometimes, you gotta wait and it seems like forever.  But if you dream hard enough you can make it happen."

"I thought you were a cynical old con man, only out for yourself," Rose sniffled.  

"I am out for myself!  God, the tension in this galley might curdle my breakfast!  and this jam is famous across five star systems, so it shouldn't go to waste.  And furthermore, no one dreams big like a con man — huh?"

"Too right," Rose sniffed.  

"Go talk to him.  The Tardis'll help you track him down."  Rose could feel the little sense of some presence warm at the base of her neck.  Jack felt it a little more strongly as a natural telepath, but once Rose had become aware of it, she nurtured her connection with the ship and concentrated on building it up.

The Tardis led her, unerringly, to the Doctor's private quarters.  It wasn't that Rose hadn't seen his rooms — but she'd only seen them glancingly, in transit.  She'd never gone there to seek him out, and certainly not to pull him out of one of his moods.  

Gathering her courage, she knocked.  "Doctor, may I come in?"

For a long moment there was no reply.  Then finally she heard him gruffly reply, "Yeah, come in."

"Are you okay, Doctor?" Rose asked, easing the door open and stepping cautiously into the Doctor's room. It felt a little like breeching an inner sanctum, for all that it was decorated casually, rather plain for someone who called himself a Time Lord, and not at all alien.   It reminded Rose of a mid-twentieth-century studio flat: bed, nightstand, bureau, two chairs, a tea table, and a standing desk and coatrack by the door.    

He only snorted in reply.  He was seated in one of the two easy chairs, the plate of toast on the tea table in front of him.  

"Have I done something wrong?"  Rose said.

He looked away, shaking his head ever so slightly, so she came closer, sitting down in the chair opposite, maybe nick a toast.  

As he turned to look at her, his eyes suddenly blazed with intensity.  His whole expression became fearsome as he leaned forward, breathing deeply.  

"Rose—"  he nearly hissed.  "He's all over you!  How could you come to me, here in my room, when you smell all over of him!"

"What?"  Rose asked, shrinking back into the chair. "You can smell him?"

"Yes, I bloody well can!" he shouted.

"Well, how was I to know that!" Rose shouted back.  "He hugged me, because he could see you were being an arse!"

"An arse!"  the Doctor roared.

Rose just looked at him, eyebrows raised, lips pressed firmly together, letting him reflect on his own actions.

"Right! An arse!" He leapt to his feet, stomping to the far side of the room. Rose couldn't help admiring the lithe muscles of his back revealed by the form-fitting maroon jumper.  It was so rare that she saw him without the coat.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, trying to make it better.  "I didn't know your sense of smell was that good."  

The Doctor whirled, rounding on her.  "You bathed last fourteen hours ago, after we got back from Cardiff.  Used that mint foot rub Jackie gave you. Washed your hair with the lemon shampoo.  Your toothpaste is spearmint," he spat.   He strode nearer, his voice low and precise, eyes blazing.  "You stroked yourself to climax last night before you fell asleep.  I can smell your pleasure lingering on your fingers."

Rose felt pinned to the chair, a bolt of arousal sizzling through her at his words, the sheer intensity of his proximity.  

"Is that why you were so cold to me this morning?" Rose asked. "Because you could tell--?"

He looked away again, the cords in his neck pulling.  

"Could you tell what I was thinking?"  she asked.  

He swallowed, shaking his head as if to clear it — not a clear negative.  

"That I was thinking of you?" she whispered.  

"Ah, Rose, Rose," he groaned.  He looked up and his eyes were crystalline blue, so wide, so helpless. "You've climaxed one hundred thirty-seven times on this ship, and I've felt the shock of it every time."  

"The shock of it?"  Rose whispered.

"Echoing through the Tardis, through the link you're building with her, you clever girl," he grinned mirthlessly, shaking an accusing finger in her direction.  

She sat there, stunned, a little aghast.  

"So yeah, I knew what you were thinking," he added. "Most of those times I could hear my name ringing through your pleasure.  And by the way, who the hell is David Tennant?"

"First of all," Rose said hotly, "I'm a little upset you could hear my thoughts.  You told me it was only the Tardis in my head.  Second of all, he's a cute Scottish bloke on telly— safe enough for a fantasy, as long as no one's listening in!"

"i did warn you," the Doctor said haughtily.

"You did not!"  Rose said.  

"Did too!"

Rose just looked at him, mouth agape.  "Really?"  she said.

"I can't shut you out, Rose...  this is what it's gonna be like, my mental barriers falling, one by one, till I'm bare before you, begging." He wiped at his face tiredly.

"And that's bad how?"  Rose whispered, knocked back by the image of the Doctor helpless before her.

"I told you, Rose! Time Lord! Mind full of Vortex!  You look in there, you're gonna burn, and there'd be nothing I could do to stop it!"  

The Doctor's voice was threaded through with despair, almost an agony.  Rose longed to comfort him. She had to figure this out.  

"But wait. Can't the Tardis help?" she asked.

"How?" the Doctor said, weakly.

"She's full of Vortex too, and my link with her hasn't hurt me.   If I'm linked up to her, and so are you, can't she be, like, a transmitter, but with a filter — just letting through as much as is safe?"

The Doctor stared.  Rose waited.

He stared.  She waited.  

"Rose Marion Tyler, you are brilliant!"   he shouted, a huge grin breaking out over his face.  He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her right on the forehead. In the split second of that kiss, she could feel like a distant storm, the overwhelming joy flooding through him.

"But we've got to be sure.  We've got to be safe.  I can't let you get hurt, not for me, not for this."  His desperation, his excitement, it was all mingled together on his face.

"Tell me, Doctor.  What happens now?"  she asked.

"Now, Rose," he said, "we see what the Tardis thinks of this naughty idea of yours.  Oh, if they could see this, they'd have a fit — a type forty Tardis being used as a  sex aid between a Gallifreyan and a human!"

"None of their business," Rose grumbled, not caring who he was talking about, but getting the idea it was his meddling, condescending people.

"Do you want some toast?" the Doctor said brightly.  She'd never known anyone whose moods changed so rapidly.  There was no way to know if it was because he was Gallifreyan or just that he was mad.

"Yes, thanks.  I'm famished!"  Just as Jack had said, the jam was incredible.   The Doctor had come up with a transdimensional breadbox, so the bread was always perfectly fresh, but this jam was transcendent, dark purple in color, tangy with heady flavors of honey and citrus and a hint of spice.

Rose moaned in appreciation, licking the crumbs daintily from her fingers as she finished off the second piece of toast.  "Doctor, that was heavenly!" she enthused.

"It certainly was," the Doctor responded, and then she saw that he was watching intently as she sucked on her finger.  The hunger in his eyes had built again to a raging fire.  

"Do you want some?" Rose said, picking up another piece and offering it to him.

He seized her wrist, and staring into her eyes, began to bite into the toast, until she was just holding a little piece of it between her fingers.  

"It is good," he said, "but this is heavenly—"  and then she felt his soft lips closed over her fingers.  His tongue swept the toast away and he chewed it up and swallowed, somehow managing just to graze the sensitive skin of her fingers with his teeth.  As he swallowed, he began to lave around her fingers, searching out the tiny traces of jam, and she blushingly realized, something more.

"Can you, can you taste—"  she asked.

"Hint of soap, there, but yeah, of course I can, Rose.  And you're just as delicious as you smell," he said.  

"That's good," she said breathlessly, overwhelmed by his attentions, the feel of his tongue exploring her fingers.  

"Can you feel me?" he said softly, taking her hand into his with a final kiss.

"Yeah!  It feels wonderful!" she answered.  

"No, Rose, I mean, in your head.  Feel if the Tardis is shielding you," he explained.  

The Tardis made herself known in Rose's mind as a collection of persuasive impulses.  Warm, gentle, the Tardis would nudge Rose to take a certain action.  Rarely, but more often as she worked at the connection, she would receive a full-sensory impression of where the Tardis wanted her to go (the dappled light, soft lapping, and humidity of the pool) or something she was meant to do (the feel of a lever, the satisfactory chunk of correctly adjusting it).  

Right now, the Tardis in her mind felt warmer than usual, tense with the urgency of something with the potential to happen.  

Then Rose heard, very faintly, the sound of music, like a distant set of tuned chimes shimmering the air.  

"I hear music, Doctor — it's so beautiful!  What is it?" She closed her eyes to focus on the celestial sound.

"That's Old High Gallifreyan, Rose — our old telepathic language.  You're hearing my thoughts!" he said.

She opened her eyes to look at him.  The emotional intensity of his face was startling — hope, terror, joy, all at once.  

"It's gorgeous — like angels singing — but I can't understand," she said.

"Yeah you can.  Listen again."

The sound seemed clearer as she focused again, a lovely ringing of chimes that seemed to float and expand, sweet harmonies and fruitful dissonances colliding.

"It's the design at the heart of things," Rose murmured as the language unfolded its meaning. "The expansive core of the universe, the birth of all things. Blimey, you think a lot of things at once!" she exclaimed. Then she gasped.  "Oh.  Oh, Doctor!  Is it?"

"Yes — that's your name, Rose. Gallifreyan language is infinitely layered.  What you're hearing isn't just the name of a flower, it's all that the idea of the flower implies."

"So I can hear you! The Tardis is linking us!"  Rose exclaimed.

"Still doesn't do me any good if I have you and you don't survive it," he said, darkly.

"You could really, like, kill me with your brain?" Rose asked, flushing at the thought of the Doctor having her, but trying to pay attention.

"Rose, that was just one word I sent through to you.  Imagine my thoughts going full tilt... not to mention the Vortex."

"Why do you have the Vortex running through your brain? Isn't that what the Tardis is for?"

"Gallifrey had a rift, so my people evolved to withstand anomalies in time and space.  The very first Gallifreyan time travelers moved their entire ship through time and space using only the power of their linked minds."

"Amazing!" Rose said.

"Yeah— except it was a failure.  They managed it, but not without crashing into me."

"You crashed into the first Gallifreyan time travelers!"  Rose laughed, not exactly surprised.

"Always in the wrong place, wrong time, me," he smirked. "Turned my poor old girl inside out.  Anyways, after they crashed, Rassilon went the technological route, growing ships with living intelligences.  It's the link between a Gallifreyan and a Tardis that truly defines a Time Lord, the ability of the Time Lord to monitor and understand the Vortex as the Tardis moves through it."

"So the Vortex isn't in your head — it's the link to the Tardis that's in your head, and the Tardis is in the Vortex — so the Tardis is already protecting you from the Vortex,"  Rose said triumphantly, working it out.  

"Fair enough," the Doctor conceded, smiling.  

"So she should be able to do it then.  If she can filter the Vortex for you, she ought to be able to filter you for me," Rose said.

"Maybe," the Doctor said cautiously.

"How do we test it?"  she asked, softly.

"Touch telepaths, Rose," he said.  "We just have to touch." He still had a hold of her hand, and he began stroking it more intently.  

"I like the sound of that," she purred. "How much touching, do you think?"

"A good deal," he replied.  "But we'll go slow," he added.

"Going slow means getting started," she said, trying for sultry. "This is just like trying to get you to dance."

"I'm a fantastic dancer!" he replied, indignantly.  

"I agree!" Rose answered. "But it took you a while to warm up to it."  

The Doctor sighed. "As much as I want you, I can't let go.  I need to know you'll be safe."

"Okay, Doctor.  I'm in your hands,"   she said, then gestured to the arm chairs they were sitting in.  "Can't we get a little more comfy?"

Wordlessly the Doctor stood and led Rose by the hand to the bed.  It was the one bright spot of color in the spare, coral room, with a heavy quilted coverlet made of what looked like silk, crimson and orange and embroidered in beautiful swirls.  Rose fleetingly wondered if it were Gallifreyan in origin.

"It's beautiful," Rose said, admiring the quilt.

"You're beautiful," the Doctor said, staring at her intently.

"You mean, for a human," Rose said, ducking her head away.  

"Nah," the Doctor said.  "I was just being an arse, like you said.  You are beautiful, Rose, one of the most beautiful beings I've ever had the pleasure of getting to know."

There was a smart riposte on the edge of her tongue, but she swallowed it back when she registered  the sincerity in the Doctor's voice and in his unblinking blue gaze.

"Thank you," she said, as steadily as she was able.

"Aren't you going to return the compliment?" the Doctor teased, lightening the moment.

"Nothing I could say could measure up to you, Doctor," Rose returned.

"Too right," the Doctor smiled. His hand slowly rose to the side of her face, as if by its own accord.   Because of his alien coolness, she couldn't detect any heat, but she could sense his hand hovering, as though it belonged to a ghost.  

"If you want to touch me, go ahead," Rose challenged.  "I want you to."  

The Doctor shivered and blinked at her words.  He pulled his hand away and Rose frowned, but then he said, "Lie back," which sounded much nicer.

"You early humans have had a few natural psychics," the Doctor said casually, going into what Rose thought of as lecture mode.  His hands floated an inch or two above her body as he spoke, a strange sensation she seemed able to feel.   "Even by the twenty-first century they'd done some amazing work on the human aura — the field of electrical impulses that extend beyond the body — so-called Kirlian photography for example, documenting the way the body's natural psychic field could extend to make contact with and learn about another body — be it animal, vegetable, or mineral."

"What if it's the size of a bread box?"  Rose asked.

"Bigger on the inside?"  the Doctor answered, "—it always is."

"Take a deep breath, Rose, and hold it," he ordered, and after a few seconds he said, "release." Rose felt the tension draining from her body as she breathed out.  She imagined herself sinking down into the comfortably firm mattress of the Doctor's bed.  She was lying on the Doctor's bed!  The reality of her situation suddenly occurred to her and she felt her heart speed up its beat.  

The Doctor's hand floated just above and to the left of her sternum. "So much life — so strong and young," he murmured.  "So fucking beautiful," he said.  

Rose was astonished — she'd never heard him curse before.  She looked up and saw tears in his eyes.  

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"I can't," he said, "I can't convince myself that it's okay, that it will be okay if I touch you.  I want you safe, my Rose," he said, a tear breaking and rolling down his face.

"There's a song for that, you know," Rose said. "It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance...." she sang softly.

"I'm not afraid of dying, not on my own account," the Doctor said.  Of course, somehow, he knew that song.

"I know," Rose said.  "But you can't choose for me — you can't pick and choose amongst the risks you think it's okay for me to take."

"I won't let you run into the line of fire," the Doctor said.  

Rose thought of the Dalek that had extrapolated her DNA.  "I make my own choices, Doctor.  If it's risky getting closer to you, then, that's a risk I choose to take, and you've got no right to stop me — unless, you really don't want me, don't want to get closer with me."

"I think you already know the truth of that," he whispered, proud, but slightly embarrassed.  

"You do want me, then," Rose gladly confirmed.

"So much, Rose, I can hardly think."

"Then have me, Doctor,"  Rose murmured.  This time she wasn't trying to be sultry, but every muscle in her body was relaxing under his cool blue stare.  

She reached up then, with her own hand, joining it to his.  Their hands were long familiar by now.  The long, elegant fingers, cool in hers, were strong, yet they trembled slightly.  It was she, Rose Tyler, who was doing this to him.  She couldn't help but feel triumphant.

She held her hand up to him and once again he kissed it reverently before starting to stroke farther up her arm.

His touch was so hungry yet so light and tentative that she hardly dared to breathe lest she frighten him away.  His hand traveled up her arm, across her shoulder, and down along the buttons of her flannel top, between her breasts.  She longed to arch up into his touch but she didn't dare.  She had to let the Doctor set the pace, no matter how impatient she became.

His fingers trailed slowly down the center of her stomach.  Would he?  No, he'd said he was celibate.  Yet he showed no signs of stopping.  

The pyjama top gaped open a little at the bottom, below the last button.  There, his fingers found the flesh of her belly.  As his fingers lightly made contact, Rose felt an electric spark that made her jump.  He snatched his hand away and his eyes flew up to hers.  

"Did you feel that?"  he asked, unnecessarily.

"Yeah," she admitted.

"The Tardis didn't mute it,"  he said.  

"I don't think so," she said.

"Direct contact," he said.  "Give me a bit."  There was a long pause as his eyes drifted closed, his breathing evened, and his fingers hovered just slightly above her belly.  The suspense was excruciating, but Rose kept silent.

His fingers neared, slowly, slowly, until finally they touched.  Warmth pulsed into her like liquid fire, but muted this time.  

"Ah," she sighed.

"That's better, isn't it," he said.  

"It feels a little like when you hold my hand, that feeling of love that pours into me, safety, like nothing in the universe could touch me, cause you're there."  

"You can feel all that?" he asked, wonderingly, as he lightly spiraled a pattern on her tum.

"Yeah, always have. Since that first day. What are you writing on my belly?"  she asked with a smile.

He at least had the grace to blush, his ears burning red through his fair complexion.  "My name," he said.

She knew it.  Every man was the same, deep down.  "Doctor?" she asked.

"No..." he admitted.  "My old, secret name.... not the one the House of Lungbarrow gave and took away, but even older, the first one, the really secret one."

"Will you tell me some day?"  she asked, wistfully.

"If this goes the way I plan, it'll be sooner rather than later," he said, eyes bright with hope.  

As he traced the secret pattern onto her stomach, Rose felt blissfully claimed.  "I wish it were now, right now," she said.

"Me too," he sighed.  Slowly he leaned forward, and gently, his lips caressed the skin of her stomach.  The fire his cool fingertips left in their wake was nothing compared to the icy kiss of his lips and tongue, which seemed to almost sear.  

"Oh, oh, Doctor," she gasped, holding as still as she could.  "It feels, it feels so good — but it burns!"

He pulled away at once with another deeper sigh.  "This isn't working, Rose," he said. "The Tardis can't keep up as my barriers fall, as my aura tries to link into yours," he said.

"Please, Doctor," Rose begged.  "Please don't stop now!  Can't we, please, just try!"

"You promised not to torment me," the Doctor said.  "I can at least return the favor."  

He tugged gently at the tie of her pants. "Is this okay?"  he asked.

"Oh, my god, yes!" Rose shouted.  It was all she could do not to thrash on the bed with eagerness.

"Right, then," he said, and undid the ribbon and folded back the pants to reveal her sex.  

She was already wet from anticipation.  She saw him breathe in deliberately, and felt herself open even more as his eyes fluttered closed, as he enjoyed her heated aroma.  

"It's even better up close," he said,  savoring, "especially knowing it's me getting you hot like that."

"It is, Doctor — it has been for a long time," she said.  

"No more of this David from on telly," he growled.

"Absolutely not," she swore, as his finger again began its slow but steady descent.  

He seemed to be in two or three places at once, she thought.  His face kept shifting from delight to detachment as his barriers fell and he fought to fit the Tardis in their place.  The coolness of his touch was real, but the fire of what he called his aura rose and fell as he attempted to calibrate it.  

"It's like you're at the console," she gasped, "like you're flying her."

"It is — a lot like— " he answered.  

Finally his fingers lightly brushed over her sex.  

"Oh! Oh, Doctor!" she cried. His touch did burn, but it was so good, so very good.  "Please, please don't stop," she begged, shamelessly.  She'd never wanted anything so much in her life, she thought.

He held himself still, his face a mask of concentration.  

"I want you, Rose," he muttered. "I'm barely holding back, I want to plunge this hand deep inside you— the pulse of  your energies just inside, calling to me, pulling me, singing your name so loudly I can hardly think of anything else!"  

"Do it!" she urged.  

"I can't!" he cried.  "Breathe for me, Rose!  Breathe!"

She took a deep breath and held it like she'd done before.  The wait was longer this time as he struggled to find his equilibrium.  

"Release," he sighed, and as she breathed out, he laid his fingers flat over her sex.  

"Too much?" he gasped.

"No!" she cried.  It was hot, like hot bath water, pins and needles into her flesh, but it was devilishly intense. "Oh, God, it's so good!" she screamed.

His hand was steady, but something inside her knew that he was nearing a breaking point.

"Just a little more, Doctor," she panted, "touch me just there, please!"

"Rose, Rose," he chanted.  He seemed unable to move, and she held still, knowing how much was at stake for him.  If this, this risky chance at lovemaking, went awry, who knew what he might do?   His eyes were closed as he tried to calm himself, breathing, trembling all over.  She longed to kiss him, pull him down, cradle him to her breasts, but she didn't dare. She just had to lie here, receptive, trying with all her might to be exactly what he needed.

Finally, his hand began to move, slowly, so very slowly, down to where she needed his touch.  His hand was icy cold, betraying the incredible tension he was suffering, but his touch conveyed fire into her body, fire so hot it almost burned.  Just one touch, right there.... she was so ready,  she felt so hungry for him — if only she could take him inside where she needed him so badly... but this would be enough, one stroke of his beautiful, elegant fingers...  

and then it happened.  His long middle finger slotted into place. She was so ready, her hood had already pulled back, and his touch arced directly into her nervous system.  Her back bowed off the bed into a convulsion she was powerless to resist.  Images began to pour into her mind —

—the night sky of Gallifrey, the brilliant copper moon where the ancient sisters worshipped their eternal flame...

— the canyons outside the dome of the citadel, the red desert rocks, ancient and dry under a sherbet sky ...

— the mountains of the south... the red grass meadows, the singing of the tafelshrews, the melodies of the psychic trees recounting tales of all the lives they'd learned...

but beyond all that, she heard his name, the secret name, the name he'd won from Time itself...  the expanse of it, the strength, the danger, the mad bravery of the Time Lord who'd fallen in love with a little ape...

and she heard her name, Rose, the design at the heart of the universe, pulsing in time with his, Guardian of Forever, Lonely Angel, warrior Doctor....  

The symphony of  their two names flooded through her brain in time with the pleasure of his simple touch to her sex, and her body seized wildly, blissing out.

Rose faded to white and knew no more. 

===


	2. Chapter 2

When Rose opened her eyes, she knew something had gone wrong. She felt stiff and cold, like that time she'd had anesthesia for the tonsillectomy when she was fifteen. She was still in the Doctor's room, in his bed, but she was lying under the quilt, and he was seated in one of the easy chairs, a big pile of books haphazardly lying around him on the floor. 

His eyes flew to hers as she breathed in. "Hey," she said. "What happened?"

He crossed to the bed and seated himself on the edge. He had his jacket on. He'd been wearing the maroon jumper and now he was wearing black. His face was strange, and Rose was surprised, after all this time, after getting so close to him, that she couldn't read his expression.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly. 

"Fine, I think. I feel like I've been asleep for a long time." 

The Doctor swallowed. "Yeah. Three days, your time," he said. 

"Three days?" Rose said, shocked.

"Yeah," he said. Now the expression made more sense: fear. It was fear, tinged with the tiniest bit of relief that she'd awakened.

"Doctor, I'm all right," she said.

"You very nearly weren't," he said. "You could've died. The Tardis pulled me back at the last possible instant — the damage had already been done. I could've wiped your mind," he said, and now that his emotions had broken through the surface, his voice was full of anguish. 

"What damage?" she said, frightened.

"I'm not sure. The Tardis helped you. She says you're fine now. But you were out for three days!" he cried.

"No real damage then — just a long sleep?" she asked. That sounded much better.

"Coma more like," he retorted. 

"But it was worth it," she smiled, surprised and disappointed when his eyes filled with regret. He shook his head.

"It was!" she insisted. "You can't deny — I heard your name, Doctor! Your true name! I would have given anything for that!" she cried.

The Doctor cringed, his eyes closing. "But not your life, Rose — you only have one. I couldn't bear it if you died because of me. If I lost you — it would destroy me, I think."

"But I'm fine!" she said, laughing in desperation. "Look at me!"

His eyes filled with fire. "Rose, I've been sitting right there for three days, watching over you, just waiting for you to wake up. At first you were barely breathing! Do you have any idea how that felt?" The agony on his face betrayed the ordeal he'd been through. Rose ached for him, but she wanted him. She wouldn't let fear, even after a setback like this, get in the way of their happiness together.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry I scared you. But wasn't it worth it?" she demanded.

"It was beautiful, so beautiful," he said, "but it can't happen again." 

Rose felt her spirits plummet at the finality in his voice. "But Doctor! We can't just give up!" 

"No," he said, adamantly. "It's too dangerous. We'll just have to be content with the way things are. Isn't it, can't it be enough?" he asked, plaintively.

She saw how much it meant to him to think that everything they'd had together all along was beautiful in its own right. Her hand crept toward his, seeking the comfort of their familiar bond, afraid he would deny her even that. When his long fingers clasped around hers, even icy as they were with tension and lingering fear, she warmed to feel him next to her. 

"Of course," she said, certain at least of that much. But still, having tasted the incredible rapture the Doctor had to offer, she couldn't help but yearn for more.

======

Rose had been so angry, furious at how helpless he'd left her — sending her home with the Tardis while he stayed behind, facing terrible odds. She had gone nearly crazy with worry over what the Daleks might do to him, besides being so angry with him and missing him like a lost limb, all at the same time. Finally, one morning, she awakened with the answer clear in her mind. Perhaps the Tardis had whispered to her in her sleep. She needed to speak to the Tardis directly, and there was only one way to do that: through the Vortex in the core of the Tardis's console. She had dared to look into the Doctor's mind, and she'd survived. She was sure the Tardis, somehow, would protect her, and take her back to the man they both held dear.

There was no way for Rose to describe the feeling of the Tardis opening up to her, opening the power of the Vortex into her mind.

It was like light, and fire, and staring into the sun, but it wasn't light or fire or the sun. The Vortex was the streaming of Time through a dimension Earth scientists hadn't even theorized yet. It was like a river with a powerful current, flowing, dragging her along, but it wasn't a river. The Vortex was also like a swirling tunnel of energy, and spinning off all around it was the universe, all the possibilities Time had ever offered to existence. Gallifreyans had evolved able to cope with fluctuations in time because of the powerful rift on their planet. They were naturally telepathic, and some had precognition, but rarest of all were those who could look into the rift and see into other times and places as clearly as they saw the world around them. Later, the Time Lords genetically manipulated their bodies and brains to further suit them for time travel, blessing (or cursing) themselves with regeneration from that same powerful source, the unending stream of Time itself. By rigging sentient corals from one of the ancient seas into cybernetic frames, the Time Lords created the Time Travel Capsules to shield themselves from the maddening power of the Vortex.

Now Rose Tyler was looking into the Vortex just as bravely as any young Time Lord put before the Untempered Schism back on Gallifrey — and she could only weep in awe at the sublime beauty of the universe. The Tardis had been in her mind for months by that point, preparing the young human time traveller for this eventuality, and the liaison between human and Time Lord, which had seemed something of a triumph to Rose and a terrifying failure to the Doctor, had given the Tardis all the information she needed to calibrate the raw Vortex to a point the girl could survive. The Tardis let the Vortex flow, and as the girl bonded with the ancient Gallifreyan creature, the Bad Wolf was born.

Rose could see the Doctor lying there before her, and around him, threatening him, she could see the abominations, the false god and his nihilistic offsprings. With a thought she wiped the universe clean of the Daleks, freeing them from their lives of pain and hatred, dispersing them back into the fabric of the cosmos. 

Her beloved, her Doctor— why was he so afraid? She'd saved him! Couldn't he see all she had become? She looked at his life, all the times and places the Bad Wolf could see— his childhood in the hateful House of Lungbarrow, his time at the Prydonian Academy, the mad friends he'd made — his flight with the Tardis (she'd loved him at first sight, just like Rose) — his marriage in the backtime to a brilliant, gentle Gallifreyan who saw to the heart of this mad man from her world's distant future — their daughter — their granddaughter Susan — and all the beautiful and brilliant companions that came and left one by one as his lives flew by, unnaturally fast for any of his race. He'd used up almost all his allotted lives in a fraction of the usual time — because he wouldn't stand back — he got involved — he fought — he cared — he loved!

He was a Hero, her Doctor, Time's own Champion, and it was Time itself that had given him his name. Rose let it play through her mind just for the joy of it, letting its music thrill her soul.

Faced with the chaotic power of the Vortex, he'd fallen to the ground, and she could see the fear and desperation shaking him to his core. He was so afraid for her, terrified that the Vortex was hurting her. She tried to make herself small enough to speak to him, but every word was at once tiny and huge, so inadequate yet ringing with the meanings of the whole universe behind them.

"I bring life!" she cried out to him, smiling. "The sun and the moon, the day and night — I can see everything — all that is, all that was, all that ever could be — "

"But that's what I see. All the time. Doesn't it drive you mad?" he asked, desperately.

He'd been so alone, for so long. She never could have known, before, how it had been for him, the murmur of his people always whispering in the back of his mind, kept abated by his watchful Tardis — that whisper surging into a shrieking scream as his planet was torn from its moorings in time and space — abruptly silenced as he was left alone, outside, the only Time Lord capable of saving the universe by bringing the Time War to an end. 

"It's glorious, Doctor! Everything born, falling to dust, being born again — it's magnificent!"

She saw the tears spring into his eyes. He'd been holding them back, but he couldn't any longer. She stooped down to take his hands, pulling him gently to his feet.

"Everything must come to dust — all things," she smiled, softly, offering absolution to her beloved. "Everything dies. The Time War ends. You ended it, Doctor. You saved us all!" 

"But Rose — the Vortex — doesn't it burn?" he whispered, staring back at her, entranced by the gold in her eyes. 

"The Tardis is shielding me. She's very cross with you for sending us away." 

He frowned at that, ready as always to argue, but Rose laid a finger across his lips. "Sh," she said. "Let's go in."

She pulled him by the hand, back through the wide open doors through the light streaming out of the Tardis. As they neared, the Tardis recaptured the energy of the Vortex and pulled it back inside herself. Rose felt slightly dizzy as she leaned down across the opened hatch, breathing out the last of the energy as the Tardis drained it away.

The Doctor slipped the hatch back in place and latched it with a clang.

"Rose," he said, his voice full of awe. "What have you done?"

"I saved your arse, you idiot," she grinned. "You really think you can just send me away in the Tardis, and the two of us just abandon you to the Daleks? And you call yourself a genius?" She poked him with one finger. "Think again, ducky!"

Her laughter brought a little color back into his face, a smiling bursting into bloom. "You're okay then," he said, grabbing her by the arms, "really okay — the Vortex — how are you still alive? What you did, it was enough to kill a Time Lord!" he exploded.

"Then they didn't work closely enough with their Tardises, did they," Rose returned. "We have her to thank." She patted the hatch that once again held the Vortex safely locked away.

"Rose! You're back!" Jack shouted as he skidded into the room. 

"Jack!" Rose said, grinning. "How do you feel?" 

"I'm not sure," he said. "A Dalek shot me — but here I am, so." He shrugged.

"There's something very odd there, Jack," the Doctor frowned. "The Vortex — my sense of you in time is all jangled."

"The Bad Wolf — the Tardis and me — we brought you back," Rose said. "He was only dead for a minute, Doctor — the Bad Wolf felt it was right. It was right, wasn't it?"

"I'm not sure, Rose," the Doctor said. "It's like he's not properly in the same time with us now. As though he's been taken outside time." The Doctor shuddered slightly — Rose could feel it in his grip.

"Hey, I'm right here!" Jack laughed. "And I'm alive, and the Daleks all floated off into pieces — so hey! Let's celebrate!"

"You go find that nice girl, Lynda — celebrate with her if you like," Rose said. "The Doctor wanted to check me over, make sure nothing's out of sorts."

The Doctor nodded, catching on. "That's right, lad, run along. You put an ache in me time sense."

Jack looked between the two of them, where very little daylight was currently showing. "All righty, you two, just don't leave without me."

He playfully saluted the Doctor and turned on his heel, running off to find the girl who'd been so brave during the battle.

"You did want to check me over, right?" Rose repeated, staring up at the Doctor.

"I can't believe you survived that, Rose," he said. "Surely it must've done something to you."

"The Tardis thinks I'm okay," Rose said. "I can feel her in my head, stronger than before. It's like, she's right there — quiet — alien — but real, alive, letting me know things."

They went to the infirmary just to be sure. All Rose's vital signs were normal — optimal in fact. She'd never felt better.

"I just need to check one more thing," the Doctor said. "This instrument measures your exposure to the energy in the Vortex — if it's at safe levels."

"What if it isn't?" Rose asked.

"Mutation... Vortex energy is wildly mutagenic. Unsheltered, you'd be destroyed. With the Tardis in control, well, hopefully...." he trailed off. He ran the instrument around her, frowned, and ran it around again. 

"What?" she said nervously. 

"Readings are normal — for a Time Lord," he said. 

"What does that mean for a human?" she asked.

"You should be dead," he said bluntly, "your cells burning up into chaos."

She could see the sorrow and guilt building up in his eyes, but she took hold of his arm and shook him. "But I'm not. I'm alive! The Tardis kept me safe. What did she do?"

He stared down at her, a million thoughts flying through his brain, as he considered and rejected all the obvious answers. Finally, haltingly, he spoke. "There's only one thing she could've done," he whispered. "She let the Vortex remake you," the Doctor whispered. 

"What?" Rose asked. "The Vortex isn't alive, it isn't sentient... is it?"

"Not, not as such," the Doctor said, snatching up another instrument and taking a different reading. "But Time is infinite. The Vortex contains all possibilities, that's why it's so dangerous. The Tardis only let the best possibilities happen to you, inside you." His eyes locked with hers, impossibly blue, impossibly full of hope. "Rose, she made you like me. Better maybe. She made you... sort of... a Time Lord."

"Gallifreyan?" she asked, shocked.

"No, you're still human, no extra organs or anything, but just a bit more like a Time Lord."

"No!" Rose breathed, trying to understand. 

"Yes!" The Doctor retorted. Laughter burst out of him. He waved the instrument at her. "This is a Time Lord diagnostic instrument. It measures how well my body handles exposure to the Vortex. It only works on Time Lords. Look at the reading," he said, training the instrument on himself and showing her the readout. She couldn't read the Gallifreyan markings, but it showed a dial with a needle wavering somewhere to the right of center. "I've gotten a pretty big dose of raw energy today, but nothing Time Lord physiology can't handle," he said, pointing at the dial.

"Now look," he said. The needle was far to the left when he aimed it at Rose. 

"That doesn't look anything like yours," she said, frowning. "Is that bad?" she said.

"No, Rose," he said, grinning widely. "It's fantastic. Your body has shed almost all the excess Vortex energy. You're unaffected. It's nothing short of a miracle."

"Kiss me then," she burst out.

"What?" he said, shocked, the smile freezing on his face.

"Not if you don't want to," she said shyly, but she steadfastly met his wide eyed stare. "But if I can handle Vortex energy all of a sudden, it should be all right if you kiss me."

The Doctor's face underwent a remarkable transformation. First fear, then the pain she remembered from their first, dangerous attempt at lovemaking. Then the pain was pushed aside by a dawning hunger and determination that this time, for once, he might have what he desired so very much. He placed the diagnostic instrument down on the counter and pulled Rose closer to him.

Rose loved the feel of his arms around her, so strong, so gentle, treasuring her. She loved the scent of his body wafting up around her — that alien scent like honey, a bit of citrus, a bit of cinnamon, that always incongruously made her mouth water. This time though, he was pulling her in with a different sort of intent. He wouldn't rush something like this, something so intimate as sharing breath with her, intertwining their aura. She remembered the time she'd almost touched his face, how he'd leapt across the room. Now, he was right there, immediate, tangible, all around her, and getting closer. She looked up at him, not daring to close her eyes for fear he'd pull away.

"Lightly now," he whispered, and his lips brushed hers. The dangerous current she'd felt in their previous encounter sprang to life between them, but now, just as hot, it didn't burn. 

"Doctor!" she breathed, looking up at him. "More!" she demanded. 

His arms tightened around her, emboldened by his success. His lips caressed hers, cool, but causing a feeling like fire to bloom throughout her body. Formless colors floated before her mind's eye like a vision. It was exhilarating, intense, but not borderline painful like it had been before. 

"Does it hurt at all?" he asked, pulling back slightly. 

Rose wanted to savor the moment, lock it away and store it perfectly in her memories forever — the heat in his eyes as he gazed down at her, focusing all that brilliance and intensity on her and her alone, the beauty of his mouth, warm and soft from her kisses, the feeling of his strength restrained, all brought to bear on keeping her in the circle of his arms. 

"No!" she answered. "It feels so, so intense... it's like nothing I've ever felt!" 

"Let's go," the Doctor said, "pick up where we left off before."

The smile that crept over his face was so hungry it made her shiver. He was the last of all the Time Lords, and now she was safe for him to touch, to be one with, body, mind and soul. 

"i want that more than anything," she said.

"Come," the Doctor said, and he led her by the hand, out of the infirmary and down the corridor. Rose's mind went a mile a minute, but she could really only think of one thing: lying back on the Doctor's bed, in his plain, standard Earth bedroom, the brilliant crimson and orange coverlet thrown aside to make a place for their lovemaking. 

Before she knew it, they were there, the light in his room dimmed to evening. The Doctor stood with Rose by his bed, holding her in his arms. They stood that way for long enough that Rose could feel his heartbeats thudding through the thickness of his jacket. Then he stepped back and shrugged the jacket off, sat down in one of the chairs and unlaced his boots. Rose smiled and followed suit, kicking off her trainers. 

The Doctor smirked a little, eyes wide. Somehow his innocent look never looked innocent at all. He pulled off his socks, revealing long, pale, finely arched feet. Rose had the sudden urge to kneel down and kiss those feet, but she refrained. She toed off her own socks. 

"I take off my jacket, you take off yours," he said, a lilt in his voice, a smile playing on his lips and in his eyes.

Rose unzipped her jacket and peeled it off. She was wearing a thin white shirt underneath. 

"Beautiful," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity. 

Rose held out her hand. He took it, and she led him to his own bed, where once again she lay down under his gaze. 

This time though, it was easier for him to touch her. He hovered his hand over her body as he'd done before. "Feel," he said. He began to float both hands over her torso, following the contours of her body. Before, she'd felt his presence in such a thin, ghostly way she could easily have been imagining it. Now, she could really feel the energy pouring off of him, warming her through the invisible connection they were building.

"I do, I feel it," she murmured. "It feels wonderful." It was like the most soothing massage, every bit of tension draining away under the loving care of his ethereal touch.

When his hands finally came to rest on her belly, under her shirt, the electric shock of before was muted into a deeper, warmer current flowing back and forth between them. He had such a look of bliss on his face, perfect relaxation and happiness. His hands made light, soothing movements across her belly, and she watched him breathing, consciously, in and out, keeping himself relaxed. Still, there was a wicked, hungry look burning in his eyes. 

"This is going well," he said lightly, as if he were doing nothing more than making some minor adjustment underneath the Tardis console or perhaps resonating concrete. She could feel the energy pouring out of him, and weirdly, she could feel it meeting something inside her, smoothly, deliciously, with none of the sharp, dangerous sparks of the last time.

"Take this off?" he said, plucking at her shirt. She seized the hem, tore it off over her head, and threw it haphazardly across the room. Reaching behind, she unclasped her bra and pulled it off, casting it away. He'd always respected her conventions of modesty, so she knew he understood what it meant that she was baring herself to him. His hands traced up from her belly to her ribcage, long fingers easily spanning her torso. He seemed entranced by the expansion of her ribs as she breathed. 

"Human religions tried to locate the soul in the body— in the liver, the heart, the breath," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Rose asked. She wondered if he could somehow see her soul with those ancient, brilliant, penetrating eyes. 

"It's mesmerizing, your heart, its ferocity, the way it beats and beats..." Both his hands moved up, lying gently across her left breast, feeling the savage heart knocking hard beneath it. 

Rose felt her breasts tingle and tighten at the touch of his hands, the nipples standing up and yearning towards him. 

"And these breasts, so full of life... no wonder your men worship them," he said, as his hands casually glided around, each cupping a breast. 

Rose moaned with the pleasure of it, unable to keep silent under the sensations of his cool, calm hands, spreading fire so easily throughout her body with his casual, innocent touches. 

Then his thumbs and forefingers came up and lightly pinched her nipples while he watched her intently. 

"Ah!" she cried out. The sweet warmth of the energy swirling inside her seemed to erupt through the sexual touch, the sensitive nerves firing in a frenzy, like they were struggling to connect with him through the barrier of her skin.

He shuddered, so very slightly she might not have noticed if all her attention weren't focused on him. Two spots of color had formed high on his pale cheeks, and his lips were parted from the intensity of his breathing. He was acting calmer than he really felt. What would make him lose control? What would that be like? 

His hands moved up to her shoulders, and he pinned her down, lowering his head until his lips brushed against hers. The kiss was electric, his cool mouth soothing hers against the energy surging between them, his tongue delicately tasting her, and she could feel him breathing in as she exhaled, filling his lungs with her. She moaned, trying to relax, trying to let him take everything at his own pace. 

Sinuously he eased himself down on top of her. His wool jumper was scratchy but she didn't care. She tried to arch up against him but he held her in place, exploring her mouth thoroughly until she was lightheaded from lack of air. He pulled away and watched, that predatory smile lighting his face as she gasped for breath. 

"Right," he said as he sat up and pulled off his jumper. He looked so human — his rangy, muscular body, pale and lightly hairy, two man's nipples just like any human would have — but she knew there were twin hearts beating behind them. She tried to imagine how he could really be nine hundred years old — all the things he'd seen and done — but she couldn't. All she could feel was the fierce, selfish joy of having him all to herself.

"Breathe in," he said, and as she did, he lowered himself back down to lie atop her, skin to skin. 

It was more than feeling his weight, the coolness of his body, the pounding of his hearts. She could feel the energy of his lifeforce surging through him, seeking its twin inside her. His hearts slowed slightly and hers sped up until her heartbeat fit itself into the rhythm of his. At last he said, "breathe out," and as she relaxed she could feel the link that had formed between them. 

He wasn't too heavy, which surprised her a little. She found that her arms were free — she'd lost track in the sensory overload — and tentatively she reached up to stroke him. 

"Ahh," he moaned, shivering, as her hands stroked his sides and the strong muscles of his back, spreading their shared warmth into the coolness of his skin. 

"Is that okay?" she asked. 

"Heaven," he moaned. "Your hands are so hot!"

"You're always chilly," she said, soothing her hands across him, touching him more freely now.

"Lower body temperature," he muttered, shifting. She felt his lips on her neck, just below her ear. 

He held himself up on his arms, lifted his head and stared down at her while she stroked him. The love in his eyes, the gratitude, the need — it took her breath away. 

"Have me, Doctor!" Rose said, without meaning to say anything. "Have me for always!"

He blinked, but then he gently lifted a finger and traced the side of her face with it. 

"I want that," he admitted. 

She could feel the truth of it through the touch of his finger. She remembered the sublimity of his mind from the first time, and she wanted it again, more than anything — she wanted the beauty of his thoughts, his name, ringing out inside her head. 

"Rose Tyler," he said, and even in English, her name was a symphony on his tongue. "Will you have me?" Was that really doubt she saw in his eyes? 

"Yes!" she cried. Triumphantly she saw the doubt fade as he registered the truth in her response. 

"Right!" he said again, and then added — "pants." 

He pulled away to undo his pants, shucking them off, then helped her with hers. "Okay?" he said, reaching for the waistband of her knickers. 

"Yeah," she said. He was already bare. 

"Wonderful," he breathed, and then she was naked as he lay back down between her legs. She felt the frisson of exchange as their bodies made contact, and wellbeing flowed into her. She continued to stroke his back, reveling in the cool smoothness and the strong frame beneath. 

"The last link before our minds connect," he murmured, "is the sexual one."

A dark wave of lust rolled through her. She'd wanted him for so long, and after so much foreplay, she was beyond ready for him. She caught his mouth in a passionate kiss, biting at his lips until he growled and pressed her back into the pillow, taking control — just what she wanted. He kissed her again and again, until he seemed pleased with the receptivity of her responses. Then pressed his forehead to hers, as he settled himself between her legs. He caught his breath and she wondered what would happen.

"I'd like to come in," he said, stroking the side of her face, ever so lightly. She could feel him at the door of her mind, entreating entrance.

"Do," she replied, and so easily, there he was, resplendent. In her mind's eye, she still saw the man, the fierce, beautiful, masculine creature lying on top of her, but she knew him now as so much more. She saw the many men he'd been and marveled at the miracle of him. She saw the essence of who he really was, the Time Lord, the traveller within the Vortex, the fire and heat and turbulence of him. 

After so much passion, her body was more than ready for him, slick and open as he lay between her legs. With a quick thrust of his hips, he slipped inside her. Pulsing, he lengthened and grew inside her, filling her, dancing in the fire of their joining, wracking her body with pleasure as she arched against him, begging for more, more. In her mind, it was twice as good, as she seemed to float like an angel in a whirlwind of fire, his strength holding her aloft in a storm of bliss. Everywhere he gave off light and brilliance, the darknesses here and there revealing more of his beauty by contrast. 

The chimes and melodies of his thoughts sank into her mind, and there, watching over her, was the Tardis, making sure her preparations had eased the way for the Time Lord to move through Rose's mind. The Vortex had been there before him, sweeping through Rose with all its terrible power, but the Tardis's link with the girl had tamed the Bad Wolf. Now, as the Storm swept in, Rose's mind was human still, but Time Lord enough, and she was eager to embrace her beloved and strong enough to do so unharmed.

With all she was, Rose embraced the Doctor, welcoming him into her body and mind, holding him, meeting him strength for strength.

She heard him in her mind as he sang out her name, and as she answered with his true, secret name, she could feel him surrender his despair, his loneliness evanescing like a cloud before the sun. His mind clung to hers, finding respite with her after a thousand years of wandering. 

They lay there, frozen in bliss, only moving against one another ever so slightly, shuddering, ecstatic, for what seemed an eternity. Finally, their bodies exhausted, they slipped apart, and there they lay, blinking up at the ceiling.

"Wow," Rose said. The Tardis brought the lights up. It was the next morning, the first morning of the rest of their lives.

The Doctor said nothing. He turned onto his side, holding her hand, one leg thrown across one of hers, long foot held against her calf, drinking her in with his gaze. His face was perfectly peaceful. 

"I do love you," he said. "Just thought I should say it out loud, you know, in English. In case your mum asks or summat."

"I love you, too, Doctor," Rose answered.

"I know, Rose," he beamed, his whole face lighting up, not a trace of darkness anywhere, and Rose heard a shimmering of bells, joyful in her mind. "Oh, how I know."


End file.
